


Gravity

by ConstantWriter85



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bisexuality, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), Implied/Referenced Torture, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Smut, Stucky - Freeform, Stucky Week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:48:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27392209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantWriter85/pseuds/ConstantWriter85
Summary: Bucky promised he’d come back for her. Now, nearly a year later, he finds the girl who helped him through the dark period of his life–-a prisoner of Hydra, tortured and abused because of him. As she recovers and Bucky rekindles his relationship with her, Steve grows jealous. Will it tear Bucky and Steve apart, or will she find a way into both their hearts?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 26
Kudos: 175





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:**18+** Torture and Abuse, Kidnapping, Mentions of Death, Guilt, Anxiety, Depression, Recovery, Polyamory, Angst, Smut, Fluff
> 
> A/N: This is a request from Tumblr - “the team is living in the compound and steve and bucky are together. BUT ONE DAY on a mission they find a girl that bucky knew/was close to in his time with hydra. so they bring her back to base and steve is all jealous buck is spending time with this girl but she starts to grow on steve??”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit dark in the beginning, please heed the warnings.

The autumn leaves had long since turned brown, their dry, decaying husks littering the gutters and rattling against the sewer grates. Snow hadn’t quite yet begun to fly, although it was cold enough. You wished it would—snow would deaden the sound of the leaves. You hated the paper-fine sound they made, crinkling and tearing, a death-rattle against the howling wind.

It was enough to drive you mad.

You couldn’t see the leaves, not from your little cell. It was narrow but tall, a high grate in the stone wall the only source of illumination or fresh air.

Fresh, _cold_ air.

You were always cold. The thin blanket they provided didn’t do much, but you supposed it kept you alive.

Two meals a day, one when the light started, and one when it left. Mostly some kind of watery stew, the contents of which were best left uncontemplated. Usually some water too, maybe some sour milk if you were lucky.

Twice a day you left your little cell. Blindfolded and handcuffed, you were led to a bathroom, really nothing more than a pit in the ground. You were made to shower once a week, an awkward task since they made you keep the blindfold on.

They spoke Russian, and they carried guns. That much you’d seen the one time you dared to peek under the blindfold. That time they broke two of your fingers.

You didn’t try again.

You had found a small rock in the corner of your cell and you used it once a day to draw a small line on the wall. Four lines down, and then you’d draw a line across. By your estimation, you’d been there for two hundred and thirty-nine days.

Give or take a few.

The first few days had passed in a blur. A bloody, pain-soaked blur. The last thing you remembered before closing the bookshop for the night was a hand clamping over your mouth, and a stinging sensation in the side of your neck. When you next woke, they were torturing you and asking you questions about _him_.

You thought about him often.

James.

A body built to kill, to maim, to protect, but underneath…the heart of a man. A gentle soul, whose stormy blue-grey eyes were filled with kindness. Kindness, and the ghosts of his past.

You’d helped him chase them, the ghosts. You’d held him while he trembled against you, while he struggled to remember…to regain the mantle of the man he used to be.

You could still feel the warmth of his skin against yours, surprisingly soft, the subtle woodsy scent of his long chestnut locks as you ran your fingers through them. You could still hear his quiet sighs as he lay with you, his lips gentle against your skin.

One year you’d been with him, and then one day he was gone. You knew who he was, of course. You knew people were looking for him—people that would hurt him.

People that would use him.

“I may have to leave one day, sweetheart, and it may be sudden,” he warned. “But I’ll come back for you, I promise.”

His lips softly grazed yours. “I promise I’ll find you.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

You were still waiting for him to keep his promise, two hundred and thirty-nine days later.

You honestly weren’t sure why they were keeping you alive anymore. The extent of their torturous exertions those first few days left little doubt that you knew anything of value about the man they called the Asset.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Occasionally they’d repeat the beatings along with the same old line of questioning. It never changed. At this point use assumed they probably just did it for sport.

Wherever James was, you hoped it was very far from here. You prayed he was safe. You prayed he was happy. Part of you hoped he would keep his promise to come back for you, but mostly…mostly you just hoped he would stay away.

You pulled the blanket tighter around your wasted shoulders, hissing as it scraped across the welts on your back. Light was just beginning to filter in. A rap at the door, and a tray was slid through the grate at the bottom.

Another day had begun.

***

**Ploiesti, Romania – Approx. one hour north of Bucharest**

Bucky shivered, just at the thought of being back in this country. He could sense her, a closeness he hadn’t felt in over a year. He saw her in the curve of the land, the naked trees standing out against the snowy hills. He saw her in the crumbling masonry of the tenement buildings, the worn cobblestones. He heard her in the toll of the church bell. She _was_ this country to him, the quiet interlude of his life, and he felt as if he’d finally come home.

He’d been gone far too long.

Bucky had promised her, one cold night in early February. He promised he’d protect her. He promised he’d come back for her if he ever had to leave…an eventuality they were both prepared for.

Or so he thought.

Bucky hadn’t kept his promise. It had been over a year since he’d seen her. Ever since that day Steve and half of the Bucharest Police had come knocking—no, banging—down his door. Y/N had been working downstairs in her bookshop when he’d leapt from the building, rolling and running as T’Challa pursued him.

From there he’d been incarcerated and activated, fought against and alongside old friends, had his arm blown off and replaced, the trigger words wiped from his head. He was the same man, but, he hoped, maybe, a better man. And so he’d come back to Romania to find her, his Y/N.

He only hoped he wasn’t too late.

From the other side of the Quinjet, Steve watched Bucky closely. “You okay, Buck?”

“Yeah. Just…a lot of memories.”

***

**Wakanda - Two Weeks Ago**

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“I have to leave.”

Steve’s heart started to pound, and from where Bucky’s head rested against his chest, he knew the brunette could hear it.

“Not you. Never you,” Bucky said quickly. He ran his hand down Steve’s chest, his long, delicate fingers tracing the lines of his abdominal muscles. When he spoke, his voice was hushed.

“I made a promise to someone…in Romania. They helped me. They gave of themselves to me…brought me back from a very dark place. I promised I’d protect them…come back for them if I had to leave, and I’ve…I’ve been away too long.”

Steve swallowed thickly. “They?”

“She.”

Steve was quiet a moment. There hadn’t been any evidence of a woman in Bucky’s Bucharest apartment, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t found someone. Steve was honestly glad Bucky had someone to help him through those first long months after breaking away from Hydra, but still…he couldn’t help but feel small seeds of jealousy plant themselves deep in his heart.

“Tell me about her.”

Bucky nuzzled Steve’s chest, sighing deeply. “She ran the bookshop across from the farmer’s market. I stopped in there one day…I don’t remember why, but I did. She was kind to me. We started talking, and one thing led to another.

“We were…we were lovers, for a while. Almost a year. I told her everything, and she loved me anyway. She’s beautiful. She’s smart, and she’s a sweet girl. She took care of me...I don’t think I could’ve survived that year on my own without her.”

Bucky took a shuddering breath and looked up at Steve. “Her name’s Y/N.”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah.”

It wasn’t anything new. Bucky had always been a magnet for the ladies, and then, later, he’d had to endure Steve’s romance with Peggy. So he really couldn’t judge Bucky’s affection for this girl, especially if she’d been there for him during a difficult time. That didn’t mean it didn’t sting, though.

Bucky sensed Steve’s shift in mood. He picked his head up and looked at him.

“This doesn’t change anything, Stevie. I love you, and I always will. I just…I owe her. I promised her I would come back for her, and I’m—”

“You’re worried.”

“Yeah.” Bucky swallowed thickly. “If they found out about her…if they knew how close we were…”

Bucky didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. Steve could fill in the blanks, and it made him sick to his stomach.

“I want to go with you—to find her.”

“Are you sure? I mean, it doesn’t bother you? Knowing that her and I—”

“No,” he lied.

It was only a little lie, though.

“She helped you through a tough time, and you made a promise. You want to make sure she’s safe. I get that.” He chewed his lip. “Do you still love her?”

Bucky paused, looking down at the sheets. “I don’t know,” he said softly. “It’s been so long, and I’ve changed so much. I just—this doesn’t change anything between us, Steve—”

“I know, Buck…I know.”

Steve carded his fingers through Bucky’s hair. Bucky sighed and closed his eyes, leaning into his touch. Steve nosed down until his lips were pressed against Bucky’s jaw, and he whispered against the soft skin.

“I love you, Bucky. We’ll go…together.”

In the darkness Bucky found him, his lips parting with a moan as Steve licked into his mouth. Long legs tangled with his, and two arms wrapped around his waist, one metal and one flesh. It was almost as if Bucky couldn’t get close enough to him.

“I love you too, Steve. This doesn’t change anything.”

***

**Ploiesti, Romania**

It took them nearly two months to find her.

Steve had built up quite an arsenal of detective skills on his initial hunt for Bucky, and he found himself dredging them up again. Hydra had left a barely visible trail from the old bookstore in Bucharest, all the way up to Ploiesti. It was only after they arrived in the city, though, that they realized that the whole thing was a trap for the Asset…and she was the bait.

Bucky had never been so on edge, and it worried Steve. Just knowing that Y/N had been taken only a few days after his escape hit Bucky like a knife in the gut. That she’d been their captive for all those months…

The warehouse was better secured than its outward appearance suggested. It looked abandoned and dilapidated, but it was crawling with guards. They were prepared for a fight, except it was a fight with one super soldier they were anticipating, not two.

Bucky and Steve made short work of them, and soon they were deep within the bowels of the warehouse, searching for her.

It was an absolute pit. Bucky’s sense of dread heightened as he and Steve walked the corridors of the old warehouse until they were underground—where the cells were. Y/N was here, Bucky could feel it.

The cells were abysmally small. There was a biting draft, and it stank of death. Steve gagged, but Bucky didn’t—it was a smell he was all too familiar with.

The first cell held a body…more of a skeleton, really. It had been a man once, and it looked like it had been there awhile. All the fingernails were missing. Bucky eyed it coldly, his face a blank slate as he screamed inwardly at the thought of finding her like that.

“Jesus,” Steve coughed. Bucky didn’t say anything, he just moved on to the next cell.

He found her in the third cell they searched. 

His breath came out in a shuddering gasp, fogging in the cold air. Y/N was alive, but only just.

She raised her hand to shield her eyes against the foreign light, and his first glimpse of her broke his heart. She was thin—far too thin, her lips chapped and her skin ashen. Her eyes were dead dark holes, nearly devoid of life.

It was like looking at a corpse.

Bucky sobbed her name and fell to his knees beside her.

“J-James?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“It’s me, sweetheart. I’m here. I—It’s going to be okay, I’ve got you.”

Steve handed him a couple of blankets. Bucky wasn’t sure where he got them from, but he thanked him anyway. He started to wrap them around her, freezing when the collar of her shirt shifted and he saw the bruises along her collarbone. He heard Steve suck in a breath behind him, and his stomach heaved when he realized the patchwork of bruises ran down her arms and back as well, some old, some new.

Bucky’s jaw clenched and he bundled her up as best he could. She was so cold.

“It’s okay, Y/N…it’s okay now.”

It was not okay. This was _not_ okay. Bucky lifted her in his arms, and she felt like she weighed nothing. The bruises and the scars stood out against her pallid skin, and he wanted to vomit.

_All my fault. This is all my fault…I should’ve come sooner…dear god, how long has she been here?_

Part of him didn’t want to know.

Steve’s eyes were wide and he looked like he was going to be sick himself. Neither of them had expected this. Steve raced ahead to the Quinjet, readying the medbay and pulling out supplies.

Bucky murmured to her. “Just a little further, Y/N, hang on. You’re going to be okay. You’re safe now.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes unfocused. “J-James…are you real?”

Her fingers grazed his jaw, and Bucky blinked back tears. “I’m here, sweetheart. I—I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

She blinked slowly at him. “I dreamed about you. You shouldn’t be here, James. They’ll take you…you need to stay away…just leave me…”

Her eyes drifted closed.

Bucky stumbled into the Quinjet and Steve took off, banking low across the Romanian countryside and turning for home. He laid her as gently as he could on the stretcher and strapped her down. Her head rolled weakly and she murmured something in Romanian, but she didn’t wake.

“How’s she doing?” Steve was at his side, his face grim.

“I-I don’t know…I don’t even know where to start. This is bad, Stevie.”

Steve squeezed his shoulder and started to help him get her hooked up to the monitors. All those little pangs of jealously had been completely forgotten once he saw the condition she was in. It was horrible, and his heart ached for them both.

He could tell Bucky was starting to lose it. He was breathing heavily, his eyes red-rimmed and dark. Steve hated seeing him like that—Bucky was blaming himself for what had happened to her, he just knew it.

Bucky cursed loudly. “I-I can’t get the IV started. I can’t find the vein, she’s too dehydrated.”

That was only half the problem. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold onto the needle, and Steve gently took it from him.

“It’s okay, Buck. Let me do it. Just take a deep breath, she’s gonna be okay.”

Bucky stepped back, his hands clenching at his hair. It wasn’t easy, but Steve was able to get the IV started, which was a step in the right direction. As for the rest of it…

The girl had clearly been tortured. Bruises, scars, and half-healed cuts, broken bones that had been poorly reset. Steve’s stomach clenched at the thought that she’d been in that hellhole ever since Bucky had run.

He glanced up at her vitals. They were holding steady, and there wasn’t much else they could do for her until they got back to the Compound. She was sleeping, as peacefully as she possibly could he guessed, so now he needed to calm Bucky down.

“Bucky, I’ve got this, why don’t you call ahead to Dr. Cho and let her know the situation.”

Bucky sniffed and wiped his face, looking grateful to have something to do. He made his way up to the cockpit, and Steve looked down at the girl.

His lips twitched up in a sad smile. Despite her condition, she was very pretty, and he could see why Bucky had been drawn to her. She had a kind face. Gently, he brushed a lock of hair back from her face, his thumb brushing lightly over her cheekbone.

All the jealousy he felt was gone. Now, he just felt sorry for her.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, Y/N.”

To his surprise, her eyes fluttered open, and she flinched in fear.

“It’s okay! It’s all right, Bu— _James_ is right over there. I’m his friend…I’m Steve.”

“Steve.” It sounded foreign on her tongue.

He smiled. “That’s right. You’re safe now, we’re gonna take care of you. Everything is gonna be okay.”

She looked up at him. Even despite their glazed appearance, her eyes were beautiful, and Steve felt himself drawn to her. Cautiously so as not to startle her, Steve threaded his fingers through hers. Y/N stared at their interlocked hands for a moment before looking up at him.

“It’s really over?”

“Yeah, honey…it’s really over.”

Steve wasn’t sure why he called her that. He didn’t have much time to contemplate it though, because at that moment Bucky came back, his eyes lighting up when he saw she was awake.

“Hey, how’re you feeling?” he asked. He seemed to have calmed down somewhat, although the haunted look was still in his eye.

Y/N’s lip quivered. “I was so worried about you James, I—”

Her voice caught, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Bucky had the feeling it was finally starting to hit her. He gripped her hand as tightly as he dared, and his heart clenched at how weak she felt. His other hand wrapped around Steve’s waist, drawing him close. His rock.

“I’m here now, sweetheart. You’re safe. We both are.” He looked over at Steve, then back at her before he unknowingly echoed Steve’s words. “We’re gonna take care of you, Y/N, everything’s going to be okay. Just rest now.”

Bucky watched as her lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. A smile he remembered so well, one that filled him with warmth.

Steve was torn. He watched her slip back into sleep, and he saw the look on Bucky’s face. Jealousy had reared its ugly head again. He felt for the girl, he really did…and although a part of him was jealous of Bucky’s affection for her, another part—a part he didn’t quite understand—was jealous of her affection towards _him_.

Emotions and feelings. Steve was brimming with both, and he wasn’t the best at dealing with either.

Bucky turned to him, breaking him from his thoughts. “Thank you, Stevie…for coming with me. I don’t…I don’t know if I could have done this without you.”

Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve, pulling the blond into a soft hug. He felt a wetness at his collar, and he realized Bucky was crying.

“Shh…it’s gonna be okay, Buck. She’s gonna be okay.”

Steve held the brunette tightly, carding his hands through his hair. He held him as though he was about to burst apart, and maybe that was true. Steve felt like he’d been drawn into something, something stronger than gravity, pulling both Bucky and him closer and closer to the center.

He thought maybe Y/N was that pull.

Steve cradled Bucky’s head against his shoulder, and looked at the still figure lying on the medtable.

He felt so confused.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:**18+** Panic Attack, Aftermath of torture/captivity (not graphic), Jealous!Steve, Protective!Bucky, Angst, Brief Mention of offscreen Smut, Fluff. Building up to Polyamory, but not yet in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is part 2 of a request, see Part One for the original prompt. This is more of a Bucky/Steve centric chapter, they’re both working through some things here, and it felt right to just keep it with them. Part 3 will be completely from Reader’s POV.

**One Year Ago – Bucharest, Romania**

Bucky was losing his mind.

A smattering of angry Russian, overheard at the local farmer’s market—that’s all it took to send him into a full blown panic attack.

One moment he was buying his plums—his mother always said they were good for memory—shyly inquiring about their ripeness. The next moment he was darting around the corner, scanning the crowd for the Hydra recovery team as the confused vendor hollered after him.

Ice flooded his veins. Everyone was staring at him. Closing in. The exits were choked with people, hands reaching into coats to grasp at weapons. The distant rumble of a helicopter, coming to take the Asset back home.

Then he saw the angry old man, arguing with another vendor in Russian. Something about the price of eggplant. Nobody was looking at him.

Nobody was coming for him.

_Losing it. I’m fucking losing it. Brains like a bowl of oatmeal—what the hell is wrong with me?_

Thunder crashed overhead, and he flinched.

Bucky darted across the street, ignoring the irritated honks of the cars as he made it under the awning to his building seconds before the sky opened up. It was a cold, biting October rain, and even the deflected spray off the sidewalk made him shiver. Bucky hated the cold.

He debated taking the stairs up to his apartment. It was shabby and a little run down, but it was _his_. Not a home—not yet, and maybe not ever—but it was something he had chosen and made for himself, and it usually brought him great comfort.

Usually.

Bucky couldn’t make himself take another step. The thought of being locked in there, locked in with the fragments of his memories, the walls closing in…suffocating him…the cold creeping under the cracks in the door, the gaps in the windows…coming for him…

In the back of his mind, he heard the whine of the chair. He could smell the pungent aroma of ozone and rubber, leather and blood. He heard the screams, some that were his own, and some that weren’t.

The cold wind whipped the rain under the canopy, it’s creeping fingers reaching icily down the collar of his jacket, and that was enough to send him charging through the door.

He couldn’t breathe. The air was too thick. His chest heaved and his hands shook, his heart beating so frighteningly fast and hard he felt like he was going to die. Hands reached up to grip at his hair in a desperate attempt to ground himself, knocking his hat to the ground as his vision whited out.

The scent of her was what filtered through first. Coffee and vanilla, the hint of orange peel. And something…older…like the smell of old books and candle wax. It reminded him a little of the library Steve used to drag him to see all those big art books. Folios, he called them.

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, grounding himself in the strangely familiar scent. He clutched at himself, and as the ringing in his ears receded he realized someone was speaking to him.

“Are you all right?”

It was a young woman. It took her a couple tries to get through to him, and she ended up having to switch from Romanian to English before Bucky finally managed to open his eyes.

He wasn’t in his apartment. He was in the bookstore below it.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“…n-no,” he stammered. “I-I just…”

Dazedly, he looked around the bookstore, his faculties starting to return as his breathing and heartrate returned to something resembling normal. Bucky realized the scene he must have caused, and in the wake of all that panic, embarrassment and shame crept in.

“I’m so sorry…I’ll just go,” he mumbled.

“No, please—stay. You look a little unsteady yet, and I’ve got just the thing.”

She held her hands up to halt him as he started to stand, and Bucky obediently sat back down. She flitted around the corner, appearing a moment later with a blanket and a cup of tea. Bucky froze as she tucked the blanket around his shoulders—she didn’t touch him, but just the proximity of her was enough to calm his frayed nerves.

“Stay as long as you like, there won’t be many customers here today with this rain. I’ll be right over there if you need anything.”

It was then that he finally raised his head and looked her in the eye, and what he saw there made him pause in surprise, the fog starting to clear from his brain as an unexplained warmth seeped in. She had an open, honest face. Concern there, but not pity—understanding, instead. She had a nice smile. A pretty smile.

Bucky nodded, mumbling his thanks as he felt his face color. He’d never felt so _seen_ before, and as unnerving as it was, it was also uplifting. Like he could finally draw a clean breath.

So he sat there, drinking his tea with hands that trembled in the wake of the adrenaline dump. She brought him a second cup, and it warmed him from the inside as the blanket—and her presence—warmed him from the outside.

Finally, Bucky began looking around at his surroundings, scanning the titles on the bookshelves around him. He smiled faintly when he saw one particular book— _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer_. He started to reach for it, halting for a moment, but a nod from the girl had him lifting it off the shelf.

The minutes flew by. Hours.

Bucky couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt so utterly at ease. His mind so pleasantly diverted, not only by the book he held in his hand, but by the kindness of a stranger. As he flipped through the pages, he watched her move around the store, shelving books in between customers. It was only when the table lamp next to him began to emit more glow than the window that he realized how late it was. Neatly folding the blanket on the chair, he brought the book up to the front and set the book on the counter.

She looked up at him and smiled, and Bucky returned it shyly.

“I, um…thank you. For your kindness.” Bucky picked at the spine of the book nervously. “I’d like to buy this book, it was one of my favorites…a long time ago…”

Bucky drifted off. How would he begin to tell her that the last time he’d read that book was over seventy years ago? How would he begin to tell her that holding it in his hands, reading the words and wrapped in her kindness was the closest he’d come to feeling human again in a long, long time? How would he begin to explain such a thing like that?

Maybe she saw a bit of it in his eyes, because as he began to push the book towards her, she simply placed her hand over his.

“No charge.”

“No, I insist—”

She just shook her head.

“But—”

“It’s my bookstore, I can do what I want,” she shrugged.

Bucky chuckled. “Well, at least let me buy you a coffee, or maybe some dinner as a thank you.”

Where the hell was this coming from? Was he actually flirting with her? This was the old Bucky Barnes from Brooklyn, that charismatic charmer with the mischievous glint in his eye. Bucky thought that man was a ghost, a ghost long dead and buried. His pulse was racing for an entirely different reason now, as he awaited her answer.

Another crooked smile, and he melted a little bit more.

“All right, but first you’ll have to tell me your name.”

Such a simple question, and Bucky nearly burst with pride being able to answer her truthfully.

“James. It’s James, but most people call me Bucky.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky, I’m Y/N.”

She held out her hand and he took it. It was soft and warm and fit perfectly in his, just as he knew it would.

“Well, Bucky, I’m about to close. There’s a little café just around the corner if the offer of dinner still stands.”

“O-Okay,” he stammered breathlessly, “yes, that sounds nice.”

“Let me just get my coat and my keys.”

Bucky fiddled with his cap and his new book while she locked up, unable to believe the course that day had taken. When they stepped out onto the sidewalk together her stride matched his, and Bucky offered her his arm.

Just like any gentleman would.

***

**Avengers Compound – Present Day**

When Steve woke up, Bucky’s side of the bed was cold. Again.

It was five in the morning.

Steve rolled over, scrubbing his face in frustration. Bucky was always the night owl, cuddling Steve until he fell asleep, then staying up until all hours watching _Modern Marvels_ or—god help him— _Ancient Aliens_. The man was a History Channel junkie.

Or, sometimes, he was just lost in a book. Steve was the artist, but Bucky had a voracious appetite for books, tearing through several at a time. Steve loved that about him, and he never minded Bucky’s night-owl tendencies, even if it meant grumblings from the brunette when Steve woke him for their morning runs. The mornings were for cuddling, for kissing the sleepy brunette awake, breathing in that scent and familiarity that he’d missed for so, so long.

But now Bucky was getting up earlier that him, and it wasn’t to go for a run with Steve. It was to go check on _her_ , and he’d been doing it ever since she came to the Compound, two months ago.

Y/N was in bad shape. It turned Steve’s stomach, to see what Hydra had done to her. How long she had suffered, just so she could play bait for the Winter Soldier. Steve could not imagine the horror of that pit, the tiny cell she’d been confined too, day after day without reprieve. Without hope.

It had taken over forty-eight hours in Dr. Cho’s Regeneration Cradle to undo most of the physical damage from her captivity, re-setting poorly healed broken bones, rehydrating her and rebuilding some of her muscle mass. Another week before she could even stand to eat solid foods again, and nearly a month before she spoke a word to someone other than Bucky.

And as it turned out, that someone was him.

“You’re Steve.”

It was a statement, not a question. Y/N was sitting on the dock, looking out over the lake next to the Compound. Bucky’s new arm had been acting up, and he had asked Steve to look after her while he was gone. Initially, Steve bristled. He went down there anyway, though, because Bucky had asked him to.

“Yeah…we haven’t really met formally yet.”

She smiled. It was faint and a little crooked, but it still make his stomach flip despite his reservations.

“Bucky’s told me a lot about you.”

That was a surprise.

“Really?”

She nodded. “Before. He told me about you before, what he could remember. Growing up, the war, the…the train and what came after…the Helicarrier.”

Steve’s tongue suddenly seemed too big for his mouth. Bucky had _remembered_. He had talked to her about it in Romania, before Steve had even found him again. He clenched his jaw, eyes burning.

Jealousy, his old friend, reared its ugly head.

Jealousy, because this woman had shared that crucial point in Bucky’s life after he was finally free from Hydra. That _she_ had been there when he couldn’t be. That Bucky had confided in a total stranger instead of his best friend, the same best friend who had been tearing down the world, searching for him.

Jealous, because she _—not Steve—_ had been the one to pull Bucky up out of that dark hole of remembering, saving him from drowning in a tidal wave of remorse and regret.

She was looking at him, with that quiet, indecipherable look she always wore. Steve knew she didn’t mean anything by it, but it made him uncomfortable all the same. It made him feel seen. Like she could see the jealousy hiding in his heart, his desire to keep Bucky for himself, and the envy he felt, knowing what she’d helped him through.

“He loves you, you know.”

Again, it was a statement, not a question. Steve opened his mouth to say something—what, he didn’t know, but she spoke again.

“He loved you then. He’s loved you always.”

Steve was speechless. She nodded. “I’m glad he found you again. He was…upset a lot. About what happened in the past. He needs you.”

Speaking in riddles, never betraying what was working just below the surface. What she really felt. Not to Steve, at least. The woman was an enigma to him, and despite the burning resentment he felt in his gut, he felt an inexorable pull to her. One he didn’t quite understand yet.

Steve sighed and rolled out of bed. He pulled on his running shoes and headed out into the kitchen, just as Bucky walked through the front door. He was already dressed in gym attire, hair pulled back against the nape of his neck and looking so beautiful Steve nearly forgot what he was upset about.

“Hey Steve,” Bucky said happily, sliding his arm around the blond.

Steve tried not to stiffen at the touch, but the jealous edge hadn’t quite faded. Bucky seemed not to notice. He pressed a tender kiss to Steve’s neck moved over to the fridge, pulling out smoothie ingredients while Steve set up the blender.

“How’s Y/N?” he asked pointedly.

“She’s good—she’s doing really good. We went on a run today for the first time, she’s really starting to get her strength back now.” Bucky hopped up on the counter, a soft little smile on his face. “I think she’s finally starting to heal. Starting to get back a little of what was taken from her. Finally starting to feel at home here, you know?”

“That’s…that’s good, Buck.” _I’m glad at least someone has you, because I barely even see you anymore._

Steve flipped on the blender to hide the bitterness he felt seeping into his veins like poison.

And it was true. As ugly and low as he felt right then, Steve knew it was true. Bucky was still around, still hung out with Steve and laughed at his jokes. He was still affectionate with him. Still held him and kissed him and told him every day how much he loved him, but…everything was just _less_.

Bucky was standing very close to him, and the light scent of sweat mixed with the woodsy, citrusy scent that was so completely _Bucky_ had his stomach tied up in knots. He wanted to snatch him up, to cage him back against the countertop and grab a fistful of that long, chestnut hair and kiss him until the only name left on Bucky’s tongue was his.

He was still talking about her, and maybe Steve was imagining the besotted little smile on Bucky’s face, but then again, maybe he wasn’t. All he knew was that if he didn’t leave that room in the next thirty seconds, he was going to implode.

“You know what? I think I’m just gonna skip the smoothie this morning. I told Sam I’d meet him for a run, and I’m already late.”

“I’ll come with you,” Bucky said, putting the smoothies back in the fridge. “You know that punk won’t be able to keep up with you.”

“Naw, it’s all right—you stay. I know you already got your workout in with someone else.”

Maybe it was a low blow, but Steve didn’t really care. He was out the door before Bucky could say anything further, leaving Bucky standing at the counter with a look of shock on his face.

***

Steve was gone most of the day.

Granted, it was a Tuesday, but Bucky’s training schedule with the new recruits was light that day and they had planned on doing something together. Y/N was spending the day with Sam, touring the VA and sitting in on some of his groups.

Sam had been instrumental in helping her work through some of the more difficult aspects of her captivity in a way only a therapist could, and Bucky was grateful. Sam just had a way of shedding light on things, unhindered in his attentions—unlike Bucky, who still carried the heavy weight of guilt on his shoulders.

Though now, it would seem, he had something else to feel guilty about.

Bucky sat there in the darkened apartment, texting Y/N as he waited for Steve to come home.

_Y/N: Just got back, thank you for talking me into going._

_B: It went okay?_

_Y/N: It was intense, but it was good. I’m going back next week._

_B: I’m so proud of you :) Do you want me to come over?_

_Y/N: No, wait for Steve. I think you two need to talk. I’m really tired anyway and probably won’t be much company._

_B: You’re okay though?_

_Y/N: Yeah. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?_

_B: K, sleep well, Y/N._

_Y/N: You too._

The door to the apartment opened, and Bucky glanced at the time—it was pretty late, especially for Steve.

“Steve.”

Steve yelped and jumped about a foot in the air, and Bucky kicked himself. Lurking alone in the dark and waiting for his boyfriend to get home was probably not the best way to start up a delicate conversation. He clicked on the lamp. “Sorry.”

“Jesus, Buck. You scared the shit out of me. How long were you sitting there?”

“A while. Listen, Steve, I think we need to talk.”

Steve stiffly walked to the coat closet, kicking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket.

“About what?” he feigned innocence, but Bucky saw right through that.

“Don’t be thick,” he snapped. “You’ve been moody and avoiding me all day, playing the martyr like you always fucking do as if I wouldn’t notice.”

“Oh. Well, I’m glad you finally noticed something about me.”

Bucky cursed. This was not at all how he wanted this to go. Steve always had been a hothead and quick to hide his feelings when he was hurt. He knew he hadn’t been paying as much attention to Steve lately, and he felt horrible.

Steve stood with arms crossed, waiting.

“I’m sorry, Stevie. I didn’t mean to yell. I just—look, will you sit down? Standing there glaring at me isn’t helping. I feel shitty enough as it is.”

Steve’s face fell. He sat on the couch, but the space that remained between them broke Bucky’s heart.

“You’re angry at me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Fine—you’re hurt. I hurt you.”

Steve’s gaze dropped, and he didn’t respond.

“Steve, I knew when we set out to get Y/N that it was gonna be tough. And when we found her—saw what she’d gone through,” he shook his head. “I guess the only thing I’ve been focused on is helping her to get better. I owe it to her, and I—if I’m being completely honest, I still care about her deeply.”

“I know you do, Buck, and I’ll never fault you for wanting to take care of her. You never could stand to watch someone else suffering, and I know how guilty you fell about what happened. I’m not upset. Not about that.”

Steve fiddled with the corner of the blanket that had been draped over the couch. Bucky could see he was struggling to say something, his throat working as he tried to find the words.

“I just…I wonder if…” he drifted off.

“You wonder if I’m still in love with her. You wonder if I love her more than you.”

The silence sat heavily around them. He wasn’t surprised. It was a question he’d been asking himself, ever since they had found her. A muscle ticked in Steve’s jaw as he sat with his hands clasped between his knees, looking for all the world like someone who was about to have his heart broken.

“I don’t,” Bucky began. “I love you, Steve. I always have and I always will. It was _you_ who freed me from…from all that, _you_ who brought me back. It was _your_ face that I would dream about, night after night, even if I didn’t know why. You’re a part of me, a part they could never quite erase.”

“Buck—”

“But,” he said quickly, cutting Steve off. There was two sides to this coin, and he had to say his piece. “I love her too. It’s different, but it’s equal…how I feel. We talked about it, Y/N and I—”

“Oh you did, did you?” The anger and hurt came rushing back unchecked, and Steve’s face flushed as he scooted back. “How nice—you could talk about it with her, but you couldn’t talk about it with me?”

“I’m talking about it with you now,” he said carefully. “And I know we probably should’ve had this conversation earlier, I just thought I’d have more time to sort things out in my head. Then I saw how you were acting this morning, and I…”

Bucky took his hands, desperate to make Steve hear him. “I’m so, so sorry I’ve been pushing you away. I’ve had tunnel vision, only thinking about trying to help Y/N recover, and I didn’t see—didn’t even think—how much it was hurting you. I’m so sorry, Steve.”

“I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

Bucky’s face fell. “Never. I’ll never stop wanting you Steve—god! I hate that I made you feel that way.”

Steve shook his head. “It wasn’t just you, Buck, it was me. I got into my own head…let my jealousy get the better of me.”

“Jealousy?”

“Of her. Of you…of what you had together. She was there for you when I couldn’t be, and I just couldn’t stand it anymore.”

“You were there too.”

“Not like she was.”

Bucky was quiet. He felt even worse now, knowing the depth of Steve’s jealousy. Just one more way he had let Steve down.

Bucky lowered his head in his hands. He thought that would be the end of the conversation—Steve was upset, and rightfully so, but to his surprise, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

“Why’d you run? After the carriers came down, after you pulled me from the river—why’d you run?”

Bucky blinked at him in confusion. “They were looking for me, Steve. They would have killed me, or worse—recaptured me.”

Steve shook his head. “No, I mean, why’d you stay away? Sam and I looked for you for almost two years…”

Images came flooding back to Bucky, unbidden. Fire and smoke, and blood. The scream of tortured metal and the sound of first bullets hitting flesh, then his own fist, as he shot Steve and then nearly beat him to death. He could almost feel the ache in his bones, the water dripping off the ends of his hair as he looked down at the barely breathing body of his best friend.

Looking down at what he had done, and what he had become.

“I almost killed you, Steve. I was a monster. I-I was so lost and confused, and there was no guarantee that I wouldn’t try to do it again.” His voice broke. “So I ran. I couldn’t trust my own mind, and when Y/N found me…it ended up being easier to confide to a stranger. And over time, she became something more, right up until the day you found me again.”

Steve was quiet for a long time. Hesitantly taking Bucky’s hand in his own, he rubbed his thumb thoughtfully over the metal knuckles.

“I’m glad she was there for you—I am,” he added quickly, when Bucky’s head jerked up. “I just miss what we had, I guess, and I’m trying to find my way back to that.”

“This doesn’t change anything, Steve. We said that from the beginning.”

“But it _does_. Everything has changed now. But that’s not to say it can’t be just as good.”

Bucky looked at him, confused.

“You said you still loved Y/N, and that you talked about it with her,” Steve said carefully. “Can I ask what was said?”

Bucky sucked in a breath. “She, um…she said that she still loves me, but she doesn’t think she can handle a relationship right now, mentally or emotionally. And…she doesn’t want to come between us.”

“What do you think? What do you want?”

“I think that she’s right, and what I want is to give her what she needs. Space, and friendship. She’s been through so much, she needs a friend more than a lover right now.”

“Well, maybe she can have two friends.” Bucky frowned at him, and Steve sighed. “I haven’t exactly given it an honest shot.”

“You mean that?”

Steve nodded. “I know she means a lot to you, and she helped you, even when she didn’t have to. That should be enough. I want to start over with her. With you.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, his face breaking out into a wide grin. He launched himself at Steve in an uncharacteristic display of emotion as he wrapped him in a bone-crushing hug.

“Thank you Steve,” he whispered. “Thank you. I love you so much.”

“I love you to, Buck.”

His breath caught as he felt Steve’s lips graze his throat, nosing along his jaw until he met Bucky’s mouth with his. The kiss was slow, with a raw, needy intensity that left him breathless. A gentle tug, and Bucky let himself be drawn into Steve’s lap as two strong hands trailed down his spine, making him shiver.

“Take me to bed, Stevie. I miss you.” He lightly bit down on the blond’s ear, eliciting a low growl. “I need to make up for all the time I’ve missed with my best guy.”

In one swift movement, Steve picked him up, gripping him under the thighs as he carried him into the bedroom. His name was held sweetly on Steve’s lips, the tender promise of a long night of rediscovery as the door swung softly shut behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:**18+** Aftermath of Torture/Captivity, Panic Attack, Recovery, Angst, Emerging Polyamory Situation, Brief Mention of Past Stucky x Peggy

Flashes of oranges and yellows and pinks behind closed eyelids as the bright afternoon sun peeked down at you through the branches of the large oak tree. Some deep, deep reds as it retreated behind a cloud. Then it was back again, a hypnotic light show swirling with color, the sunlight caressing your face like a lover’s touch.

You drank it in, not sure if you could ever give enough.

Lazily, you kicked your feet, laying flat on your back on the pier at the edge of the pond, the cold, crisp water delicious in its contrast. A fresh summer breeze tickled across your exposed skin, creating ripples you could hear as they met the shoreline.

Slow down. Take time to stop and smell the roses. Enjoy the little things in life. Whatever you wanted to call it, you used to think you were good at it. After all, in your former life you’d been the owner of a bookstore, and certified bibliophile. If anyone knew how to slow down, it was you.

What it had been, though, what it _really_ had been, was burying your head in the sand. How many times had you walked through a park without taking the time to study the intricate beauty of each leaf. Every blade of grass. How many times had you walked those stairs from your apartment to the bookstore below without ever setting foot outside—without breathing in the fresh air?

It was all a matter of perspective, and yours had been forever altered.

Nearly a year in captivity. A year without sunshine or a view of the stars, a year without fresh air or the warmth of another human’s company. You had found out later that your own tally had been off by several weeks, not surprising when you considered your mental state when you’d first been brought to the Compound.

Nearly a year of your life, just gone. Or maybe not gone, because sometimes when you closed your eyes you could still feel those stone walls. Smell the rot lying just beneath the surface. No, that year of your life wasn’t truly gone, but stuck instead like a skipping record, each day repeating itself until the end of time.

It had taken quite some time to adjust to the sensory overload. The first few weeks had been spent rebuilding your body, but you were still working on rebuilding your soul. Words had been thrown around by your therapist, words like PTSD and triggers and grounding mechanisms, but mostly you just were struck by how much _more_ everything seemed.

Even now, you would get overwhelmed just looking for a snack from the kitchen. The sheer amount of food choices. Or the softness of your bed or the size of your room, the fact that you had multiple clothing options to choose from. You had finally gotten over the need to sleep on the floor, but sometimes you’d just shut your eyes and grab something to avoid having to make a decision.

Something splashed nearby with a ruffle of feathers, and you sat up. Smiling when you saw two ducks swimming your way, and you grabbed the sketch pad next to you. You hadn’t drawn since high school, but your therapist had suggested picking it up again as a way to center your focus on one thing and drown out stimuli when it became too much.

Now, you just enjoyed it.

You sketched, outlining each feather in pencil before going back for shading. It wasn’t good, but it was passable.

It had become clear to you, as the weeks had passed, that you had fully expected to die down in that cell. And now, sitting at the edge of the pond with the sun kissing your skin, you just felt grateful to be alive. All of the bad days you’d had and you would continue to have, the journey that still lay ahead of you—at least you _had_ a journey left to travel.

Voices carried to you from across the pond, and you looked up from your notebook to see Steve and Bucky jogging around the lake. You watched as they drew nearer, a little smile on your face at seeing them together, glad that the friction of the past few weeks seemed to be put behind them.

Bucky waved to you and you waved back as they slowed to a walk. For a second it looked like they were both going to come down to the water, but then Steve said something and Bucky nodded. Even from where you sat you could see the look of pleasant surprise on Bucky’s face as he touched Steve’s arm affectionately before turning back towards the Compound with a final wave at you.

“Hey—mind if I joined you?”

Someone could’ve knocked you over with a feather. Dazedly you stammered out a yes, and the blond took a seat on the pier next to you, sitting awkwardly cross-legged with color high in his cheeks that you suspected had nothing to do with his run, since he hardly seemed to have worked up a sweat.

You were surprised, but pleasantly so. Steve had been a little cold to you upon your return to the Compound, but you understood. Bucky had long ago explained his relationship with Steve, so you imagined your appearance had been quite a shock to him.

Steve just looked uncomfortable. Any determination he might have had evaporated as soon as he sat, and as the minutes stretched on, you decided to speak first.

“It’s really beautiful here.”

Steve visibly relaxed, seemingly glad you’d taken control of the conversation. “It is. Much better than the old Tower. It’s more…peaceful I guess.”

“I think it’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”

“Romania was beautiful.” 

You nodded. “It was, but I lived in the city. When I was little we didn’t have a lot of money to be traveling around, and when I got older, I was pretty much tied to the bookstore. I never used to take the time to appreciate or seek out things like this.”

Steve squinted out over the pond. “I know what you mean. I never, ever thought I would miss back home. You know…before. Waking up here though, it’s all so fast paced. It was overwhelming.”

“You seem pretty used to it now.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t miss it, though. The way things were. Do you? Miss the way things were…before?” When it took you a while to answer, he shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, that was a really personal question.”

“No, No. I…I guess I just wanted to think about my answer.” You stared at the ripples without seeing them, and Steve waited patiently until you were ready.

“Some things I miss. And they might be enough to make me want to go back there, but…I don’t think they’ll feel the same. Because I’m not the same. That life, it feels like a dream. Like the dreams that sometimes slide into nightmares and when you wake up, no matter how good the dream was, it’s tainted by what came after. Maybe that’ll change in time for me, but right now, I don’t think so.”

“Does it make you angry? That it was taken from you?” _That Bucky was taken from you?_

That double meaning was not lost on you.

“I was, in the beginning. And when I was in that cell I was very angry. Angry that they took me, that they kept me. What they did to me. I was angry that they were keeping me because I meant something to him. And then, when I started to lose myself, on the nights when things were at their darkest, I was angry at him for not coming back for me.”

“But now?”

Your shoulders fell. “How can I be angry now? Everything that happened to him after the police found him—he’s suffered too. And in the end, James did keep his promise. He came back for me, and I’m alive because of him. Because of both of you.”

Steve started to speak but you held up your hand. You’d already talked about all of this with Bucky, but here now with Steve, it felt like a much needed breath of fresh air.

“I’m not an angry person, Steve. I never have been. The people that did this to us are either dead or in jail—again, because of you and James. I don’t want to be angry. I just want to try to move forward as best I can and put it all behind me.”

Steve was quiet, considering your words. There was such kindness in his eyes, such sadness. Not unlike Bucky’s eyes. But there was also a deep sense of injustice there, and you could see him chewing at the words he wanted to say.

“Y/N,” he began softly, “I think I need to apologize. I _want_ to apologize. For the way I’ve been treating you.”

His eyes flicked up to yours briefly, and he let out a sigh. “You know about Bucky and I—our relationship I mean. For the longest time, it was just the two of us. I mean, yeah, there were times where we had our problems, but we always came back together. We always found each other.

“And then I lost him. For a long time—just gone. Trying to live in a world without him in it was like walking through life deaf and blind. Nothing made sense anymore.” He shook his head. “And then I found out he was alive, and I nearly tore down the world to find him again.”

Steve looked up at you, blue eyes raw with the intensity of his emotions. “When Buck told me about you, about what you did for him—you have to believe me, I was grateful. Grateful that he had you to help him through that time in his life, helped him to find himself again, but…there was also jealousy there. And it was eating me alive.

“I resented you. I hated that you got to do that for him and I didn’t. I hated the way he looked at you, the way he loved you. I hated the time he spent with you, and I even started hating him for choosing you over me. The jealousy was consuming me, and I was taking it all out on the both of you.”

Your face fell. “I saw. Bucky told me about you, about how much he loved you, and I could see that. But I could also see that I was driving a wedge between you, and I—”

“That’s not your fault. The blames on me here. This has happened before. Another woman, I mean, between Bucky and me.” Steve huffed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “It was a long time ago, back in the war.”

“Peggy Carter.”

Steve looked stunned. “Bucky told you about that?”

“He told me you loved her and he hated it at first, but eventually you all found a way to…work it out.”

Steve blushed a little at that. “So you see, I should have known better. The roles are reversed now, and I shouldn’t have let it get to me like that.”

“Steve, I appreciate the apology, but it’s not necessary. You and Bucky have a long, complicated history, and I’ve only been in his life for a short time. I know how he feels about me, and while I still love Bucky very, very much, I don’t think I can handle a romantic relationship right now.”

“Bucky told me that.”

“So you guys talked?”

“We did. He said it was your idea.”

“I just hated seeing the two of you fighting. I know true love when I see it, and what you two have—that’s it.”

The smile that lit up his face was bashful and genuine. It was like watching the first rays of the morning sun break through the gloom. Then it faded a little, and Steve placed his hand over yours.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re being pushed to the side.”

“I don’t,” you said truthfully. “There is still so much I’m trying to process, Steve. I still have bad days, and sometimes it feels like I don’t even know who I am anymore. It’s going to take time. What I need right now, are friends.”

“Bucky and I will be here for you. Whatever you need, Y/N.”

“Thank you.”

The two of you drifted off into a companionable silence, his hand still resting soothingly over yours.

You noticed he’d been looking down at your sketchbook several times. “Bucky said you used to draw. You ever think of taking it back up?”

Steve blushed, having been caught out. “Not as much as I used to, but maybe I should take your advice and slow down a bit.” He thumbed the cover. “Is that what this is?”

“My therapist suggested it as a focus exercise. Now I just enjoy doing it.”

“May I?”

“Go ahead.” You handed him the book. “Although from what Bucky says, it won’t hold a candle to what you can do. He made it sound like your work belonged in a gallery.”

Steve blushed bright red, a besotted little smile on his face. “He said that?”

“Yep. I’d love to see some of your work sometime.”

“Well, if you’re showing me yours, I might as well show you mine. Artwork, I mean.” An even deeper crimson melted into his cheeks, and you decided that Steve was really quite handsome when he wasn’t scowling at you.

His color returned to normal as he paged through the sketchbook, studying each with an artist’s eye. “These are really good—I’m a pencil guy too, I like the simplicity. Sometimes color is too distracting.”

“I’ve never really mastered color. Maybe colored pencils here and there, but never anything as ambitious as oils or watercolors.”

“I bet you’d be good at it—you’ve got the eye. I can see it in the way you shade. You should try it sometime—I’ve got a fresh set of colors up in our room that I haven’t even had the chance to open yet, if you’re ever interested. Maybe we could paint together.”

You smiled, firmly planting both feet on the bridge he’d extended your way. “I’d like that, Steve.”

***

“C’mon, doll—three more. You’ve got this.”

You panted and pressed the bar up, Bucky’s hands hovering over the bar in case you started struggling. He cheered you on as you pushed out the last couple reps, arms shaking as you let the bar fall back on the pegs in relief.

“Look at you go! That’s twenty more pounds from where you were last month. I’m so proud of you.”

Bucky held his hand out to you, pulling you up off the bench and into a hug. For a second, you allowed yourself to sink into his embrace. His scent, the familiar press of his body against yours, the heat of him set a spark igniting deep within you, something you’d thought lost.

Your breath caught, and Bucky froze.

His face was flushed as he released you, eyes suspiciously dark with an emotion you’d seen before. The next second it was gone, though, and he cleared his throat and gave you an awkward little pat on the shoulder.

“Th-thanks, Bucky,” you stammered.

***

“Steve, that’s beautiful!”

“You think?” Steve screwed his face up, looking down at the drawing before him. It was a series of sketches, leading up to one stunning color portrait of Bucky, his head ducked and his nose scrunched in laughter.

“I do. I like seeing him like that.”

“Me too,” he smiled.

The afternoon light caught in his hair, painting the blond locks with auburn. He looked up at you through long lashes, a tender smile still on his face. So much innocence and happiness there, just like in the drawing in front of him.

Except where Bucky was darkly beautiful, as quiet and as constant the night sky, Steve was like a firework shooting across it, brightly beautiful in his excitement. As opposite as they were similar, like two sides of the same coin.

Just beautiful.

***

“Where you off to, punk?”

Steve had just walked out of the bedroom with his sketchpad and art case. “Y/N and I are going to get some lunch and then head down to the pond to draw. I was going to ask if you wanted to come.”

Bucky made a face and lifted his metal arm. “Can’t—physical therapy.”

“Dr. Cho’s ‘House of Horrors?’”

Bucky laughed. “Yeah, I’ll try to swing by after, I’m probably just gonna want to come back and lay down, though.”

“Maybe I’ll come lay down with you,” he hummed. “Gotta give my best guy extra cuddles when he’s hurting.”

A flash of those blue grey eyes and Steve was a goner, shamelessly grabbing the smaller man and pulling him into a sizzling kiss. Bucky let out a gasp that turned into a moan, and Steve pressed him back against the doorframe as he licked into his mouth.

“Steve…” It was whiny and needy, and sent his blood rushing south. “God, I…I want…”

Whatever he wanted Steve didn’t hear, but he could guess what it was.

“Skip the PT?”

Bucky reluctantly pulled away. “I can’t—the last time I did that my back was tied up in knots the rest of the week. Thought I was gonna fucking die at the range.” He exhaled sharply, brushing his hair back. “Don’t think that there won’t be a part two to this, though.”

“There better be,” Steve grinned. He picked up his sketchpad again. “I shouldn’t cancel on Y/N, either.”

“I’m glad you two are getting along better. You two’ve been thick as thieves lately.”

Steve blushed and bit the inside of his cheek. He and Y/N _had_ been spending a lot of time together lately, and as much as he didn’t want to admit it to himself, his feelings for her were starting to cross into dangerous territory.

Bucky was looking at him funny, and there was the hint of a smile there.

“It’s not like that, you jerk,” he huffed. “It’s just that we’ve got more in common that we thought. I like spending time with her.”

“So there’s no budding feelings there? Just friends?”

“N-No. Definitely just friends.” At least, that’s what he was telling himself. “Trust me—the very last thing I want to do is to try to push her into a relationship she either doesn’t want or isn’t ready for.”

Bucky’s smile fell. “I know, Stevie. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just glad to see the two people I love getting along, that’s all. It makes me happy.”

“I just didn’t want you to think—”

“I don’t.”

“It’s not like it’s the first time we’ve had to navigate around something like this.”

“It’s a little different this time though, Steve. Y/N’s not Peggy. What she went through was…” He clenched his jaw, blinking back old anger. “She’s still recovering, and she’s pretty vulnerable right now. She could get hurt.”

“I wasn’t suggesting…”

 _Wasn’t he?_ Why had he brought it up, then? Is that something he wanted—something _they_ wanted? Something she might want?

“I know. I only said it because…it’s something I thought of too.”

“Really?”

Bucky just looked at him. Then he sighed. “Look. Whatever this is, whatever it becomes, we’ve got to keep talking about it. The two of us.”

“Yeah, we all saw how well that worked out when we didn’t.”

“Exactly. But we need to be there for Y/N. As friends, first and foremost. If—and that’s a pretty big fucking if—she decides she wants something more, we will talk it out. Together. Deal?”

Steve nodded. Bucky pulled him into another hug, whispering against his jaw. “You know I can never thank you enough for sticking with me on this. I love you, Stevie.”

“I love you too, Buck.”

***

“Oh my god, how is it even possible that you’ve never seen Star Wars?” Steve’s voice had taken on a shrill note of disbelief, and you giggled.

“I don’t know, I just…I’ve never been much of a science fiction fan.”

“It’s more of a space opera than anything else,” Bucky snorted, “and don’t let that punk fool you. He’d never seen it either until last year.”

“Steve!”

“It’s a classic, is all. Sam said so.”

“He does this to me all the time,” Bucky groaned. “As soon as Sam introduces him to something, he runs right back to me exclaiming how he can’t believe I haven’t heard of it.”

“I do not.”

“Every fucking time. Just once I want to discover something before you do. Rub your nose all up in it.”

Bickering like five-year-olds.

“Boys! Are we gonna watch the movie, or not? The popcorn’s getting cold.”

A few residual grumbles and the movie started. And it was good, it really was, but as it rolled on, you became less and less interested in the show on the screen and more and more aware of the two super soldiers bracketing you like bookends on the couch.

They were just so _warm_. You felt like you were wrapped in a snug little cocoon of warmth and safety, and the tension you’d been holding in your shoulders melted out like butter. You sighed, and Bucky looked down at you.

“You okay, doll?”

“I’m good. Just…this is nice, is all.”

Something flickered across his face, and he gave you a nervous little smile. Bucky turned his attention back to the movie, but color had risen in his cheeks, and he was breathing harder than he should be for someone just sitting and watching a movie.

Steve, on the other hand, hardly seemed to be breathing at all. He was staring fixedly at the screen, one hand clamped down on his thigh as if he had to physically hold himself down.

What was happening right now? You could feel a tension rising in the air, something you’d never felt before. And you didn’t think it was just coming from them—something seemed to have shifted in you as well.

The thoughts had been dancing around in your mind for the past couple weeks, but you’d never been able to lay a finger on them until now. Your feelings for Bucky were already known to you, but what surprised you now was the feelings you had for Steve. They felt like they were more than just fondness for a friend.

Something much more.

Your head was spinning. The rest of the movie flashed by, but you hardly noticed.

***

Bucky was startled awake. At first, he wasn’t sure what had woken him, but then he heard it again.

A strangled cry through the wall.

_Y/N._

He was on his feet in seconds, tugging on his sweatpants. Steve never even moved—that man could sleep through anything—and while Bucky usually envied him, it was nights like these he was grateful he was a light sleeper.

Y/N’s room was right next to theirs, and they shared a wall between the bedrooms. Bucky had instructed the Compound’s AI to wake him in case she had a nightmare or panic attack, but he almost always heard them before the AI woke him.

Sure enough, he entered her room to find her deep in the throes of a nightmare. Bucky quickly moved to the side of the bed, lightly cupping her face with one hand and shaking her shoulder with the other.

“Y/N…Y/N sweetheart, wake up. It’s just a dream. Wake up.”

Her chest was heaving and she flinched from his touch. Bucky didn’t waver, he just pulled her into his arms, petting her head and whispering to her until she opened her eyes.

“B-Bucky?”

“Y/N? Honey, are you here with me?”

“I-I think so.”

“Do you know where you are right now?” He prayed that she did. The dissociation was the worst—nights where she actually thought she was back in that cell, her cries enough to tear his heart out.

“In my room. At the c-compound.” She let out a sob. “God, I—it felt so real. Realer than this. I could s-smell it.”

She dissolved into tears. Bucky tucked her head against his shoulder, and she curled into his side, shaking.

“Shh…it’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe here. I’ve got you.” He could feel her starting to lose control, her breaths turning to panicked gasps.

“I-I don’t—I can’t—”

“Y/N, you’ve got to calm down. Just breathe. Breathe through it with me.”

In and out. In and out. Trembling in his grasp as he fought to hold her together, the fear in her eyes tearing him apart. Bucky knew it wasn’t his fault, what had happened to her, but in moments like these it was hard to make himself believe it.

He took her hand and held it against his chest so she could feel his heartbeat. Touch always seemed to ground her, after having gone so long without human contact. After all, it had worked for him.

Gradually, she quieted. Then came the apologies, as he knew they would.

“Shh—you’ve got nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. Not a single thing.”

She hiccupped. “I just feel like such a burden sometimes.”

“You’re not. Not ever. Shit—how many times did you hold me like this back in Romania? When I was the one who woke up screaming?” He tenderly stroked down her cheek. “I love you, Y/N. Whether it’s as a friend or something else, you’ll always have a place in my heart. You could never be a burden to me.”

“I thought I was getting over this. I’m happy here—why won’t it just stop?”

Bucky’s face fell. “It probably won’t ever go away. Not completely. But it’ll get better, and on the days it gets bad, when it seems like it’s too much, you’ve got me and Steve to help you through it. You’ve got a whole group of people here.”

“Thank you, Bucky.” Her eyes drifted closed. She looked so tired.

“You want me to stay here with you tonight?”

“Kind of…but I don’t want to take you away from Steve, either.”

Bucky was quiet a moment. “Do you want me to have him come over too? Smack dab in between two of the biggest guys in the Compound is a pretty safe place to be.”

He meant it genuinely—it was nothing sexual. Y/N still looked pretty shaken up. Bucky only ever stayed when she asked him too, usually when the nightmare had been particularly bad. Even then, there had been nights where even his presence hadn’t been enough to keep the bad thoughts out. Steve had been a comfort to her lately, and maybe that would help now.

And that’s what they ended up doing.

Bucky on the left and Steve on the right, Y/N sheltered safely in between them. Her face was pressed into Bucky’s chest, but Steve was curled against her back, their hands clasped loosely over her waist. Y/N was asleep in no time.

In the darkness, Bucky could see Steve looking at him. There was a naked openness to the look on his face, the look of a man who had just come to a realization. Bucky guessed his own expression looked similar, because he’d just realized something himself.

He wanted this. The three of them. Together. It felt like coming home—it felt _complete_ —like his heart was finally full. He and Steve had been two celestial bodies orbiting around each other for so long, but this…this felt like something pulling them in, changing their orbits into something more.

Bucky felt Steve’s thumb brush over his knuckles. In the darkness, he saw the same thoughts mirrored there. Wondering if maybe this could ever be something more.

But Bucky stood by what he had said. He would never push something like this on her or make her uncomfortable, and whatever Steve’s feelings were—he knew now that Steve had them—it would have to wait.

Bucky closed his eyes, his fingers tightening in Steve’s as he nuzzled Y/N’s hair. Tonight, he could have this. Just being close to the two people he loved more than anything.

For tonight, this was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So this chapter got a bit long, I didn’t want to launch into feelings too soon, and show that they’re all coming into this equally. There will be a fourth and final chapter, and that one will be a bit more hot and heavy. I hope to have that one up next Friday.


End file.
